Boy & His Pup

by Foci (ao3)

Chapter 1: Day 9 - Sealed Away

Deep under Mount Justice, Bart hunched over a cluttered workbench, his fingers deftly wielding a soldering iron with superhuman speed. Sparks hissed as he fused a final wire to a tiny, glinting disc. The ground shuddered, a low rumble shaking loose grit from the ceiling, dusting his spiky hair. He didn’t flinch, eyes locked on the device, a palm-sized circle of circuits and blinking lights.

“Almost there,” he muttered, biting his lip as he pressed the final wire into place. The room groaned again, cracks spiderwebbing the walls, but Bart’s hands stayed rock-steady. He yanked the goggles off, letting them dangle, and held the disc up to the flickering light. His thumb brushed its edge, a faint grin tugging at his mouth.

“This one’s the one, I can feel it,” he said, like he was daring the universe to prove him wrong. He slipped the disc into his pocket, fingers lingering on it for a second, then took a deep breath. His sneakers scuffed the cracked concrete as he stood, shoulders squared. A hum of energy crackled through him, his body blurring at the edges, and then he was gone, a streak of red and white vanishing into the time stream.

Bart leaned back in a red vinyl booth, shoving a cheeseburger into his mouth, ketchup smearing his chin. Jaime sat across, picking at his fries, a half-eaten burger on his plate. The air smelled of grease and coffee, neon lights buzzing above. Bart wiped his mouth with a napkin, grinning wide. “Dude, speedster metabolism’s no joke. I could eat ten of these and still be starving.”

Jaime snorted, rolling his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. He pushed a fry through a puddle of ketchup, popping it into his mouth. “You’re gonna bankrupt the Justice League, man.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his dark hair falling into his eyes. Bart laughed, tossing a crumpled napkin at him, which Jaime swatted away with a quick flick of his hand.

They slid out of the booth, Bart tossing a few bills onto the table, his sneakers squeaking on the checkered floor. Jaime stretched, his jacket pulling tight across his shoulders as they stepped into the cool evening air, heading toward the nearest zeta tubes back to Mount Justice.

In the cave’s locker room, overhead lights cast sharp shadows on the tiled walls. Jaime tugged his shirt over his head, folding it to toss it in his locker. Muscles flexed under his tanned skin, the scarab’s metallic sheen glinting along his spine. Bart peeled off his own shirt, tossing it onto a bench, his eyes darting to the dime-sized disc in his pocket. His fingers twitched, then moved fast, a blur as he flicked the device onto the scarab’s back. It clicked into place, seamless, unnoticed. Jaime didn’t turn, still stacking his clothes on the bench.

Jaime flexed and blue plates materialized before snapping into place, forming the Blue Beetle armor with a low hum of energy. His helmet locked in, glowing eyes flickering. Bart zipped into his Impulse suit, red and white fabric hugging his lean frame, goggles perched on his forehead. He shot Jaime a thumbs-up but his eyes were watching the scarab for any sign his transplanted code had taken. Nothing. He felt a growing unease, really hoping that he hadn’t messed something up. He’d been in this timeline almost a month now and he really didn’t want to start over so soon. 

In the training arena, the air crackled with energy. Jaime stood firm, blue armor gleaming under harsh lights, his arms raised as sonic cannons formed on his forearms. Blasts ripping through the air, shattering holographic targets with deep booms. Shards of light scattered, and Jaime pivoted, muscles tensing under the armor, firing again. Bart blurred across the room, a red streak dodging beams and weaving between obstacles, punching targets as his sneakers skidded, grinning wide. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping down his temples as he darted again, barely a blur amongst Jaime’s precise shots.

Jaime adjusted his stance, boots scraping the floor as he unleashed another volley. Trying to blast the targets farthest from the red blur that was Bart. Two exploded under his rays but Impulse was over their blasting through targets the second they popped up. Bart flipped over a barrier, landing in a crouch next to Blue Beetle, his chest heaving. “Keep up, Blue!” he called, flashing a cocky smirk before zipping to the side, narrowly outrunning a sonic blast as he stole another target. Jaime shook his head, a faint smile breaking through, and fired again, the force knocking a distant target to pieces as the scoreboard counted up. Red 13: Blue 9

They pushed on, sweat soaking Jaime’s armor, Bart’s suit clinging to his lean frame. As the final target exploded, they slowed, breaths heavy. Jaime’s helmet retracted with a hiss, revealing his flushed face, dark hair sticking to his forehead. Bart tugged at his goggles, wiping sweat from his eyes, and they trudged back to the locker room, shoulders brushing.

“They should make the targets harder to break,” Jaime lamented as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and looked up at the score. Red 21: Blue 14. The speedster won again and it wasn’t much of a surprise. 

“Or they should have them fire back,” Bart chimed in, to which Jaime rolled his eyes. They started the next program, which simulated a single large foe with the objective of getting civilians out of the way. Jaime sighed again. He was one of the best on the team when it came to raw combat but all the other stuff really favored the members with superhuman speed. 

In the locker room, Bart almost vibrated with nervous energy as he peeled off his Impulse suit, the red and white fabric sticking to his skin before he tossed it onto a bench. This was it, his program either took or it didn’t and he was going to find out any second. The tension was killing him.

Jaime pressed a hand to his spine, and the familiar blue Scarab armor began its retraction, plates sliding away with a hiss. But instead of dissolving to reveal bare skin, the armor shifted; it flowed, morphing into a flowing layer of black rubber that wrapped around Jaime’s body, molding to every curve and muscle.

Jaime’s eyes went wide with panicked confusion as the substance spread. The retreating armor was replaced in a continuous, terrifying wave. Thick substance crept over his face, obscuring his vision, then invaded his mouth. A smooth tube forming to snake down his throat, gagging him. The black sheath raced down his arms and legs; his fingers became trapped in rubber mitts, and his feet encased, the rubber expanding to force him up on the balls of his feet. In moments, his entire body was covered, with only small slits at his nose allowing for shallow, panicked breaths.

The black latex hugged his skin tight, outlining every muscle beneath its slick surface. A sleek tail extending from the base of his spine, swishing with a panic that mirrored Jaime’s emotion. Large, canine-like ears formed on the hood now encasing his head, with blue accents framing the section over his face. The thick rubber tube plugging his mouth stretched his lips wide, burrowing deep down his throat to form a stretchy, hungry-looking orifice, a rubber hole ready for use. Below, his ass clenched around its own latex sheath, a seamlessly molded tunnel begging to be used. The rubber at his crotch closed in oppressively tight. His cock was entombed, with only a tiny opening connecting to his urethra.

Jaime stumbled, paws clawing uselessly at the hood, muffled yelps escaping around the tube. His tail flicked wildly, large ears tucking back in fear. His body swayed as he fought to escape a suit that wasn't armor but a cage.

Bart’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open as he rushed forward, catching Jaime’s arm to keep him upright. “Whoa, dude, you okay?” he asked, his grip tightening, his face a mask of concern. Inside, his heart raced; It had worked! The device had locked both the Scarab and Jaime down, hopefully keeping them out of the coming fight. He steadied Jaime, his hands firm on the warm latex, guiding him to a bench as Jaime’s whines echoed in the quiet room. Bart reached around and smoothly pulled the metal disk off the now-inert Scarab. Its job was done.

Bart burst into the medical bay, one arm hooked around Jaime’s waist, steadying him as they stumbled through the sliding doors, yelling for help. Jaime’s latex-clad paws slipped on the polished floor, his whimpers bouncing off the sterile walls. Bart’s sneakers squeaked as he guided Jaime to a cot, eyes darting to the team members gathering nearby. Nightwing pushed through, brow furrowed, while Miss Martian hovered close, her hands clasped tight.

Medics swarmed, their gloved hands prodding Jaime’s reflective suit. One ran a scanner over his chest, the device beeping as it traced the latex’s seamless edges. Jaime flinched, his tail quivering, paws flexing uselessly as the slits for his nose flexed with each breath. Bart stayed glued to his side, his fingers wrapping around Jaime’s pawed hand, squeezing gently. His thumb brushed the glossy rubber, his face a mix of worry and focus, watching the medics’ every move.

A medic sliced at the suit with a scalpel, careful not to cut Jaime’s arm. The blade parted the material, but it sealed shut instantly, like living skin knitting back together. Jaime jerked, a yelp escaping, his ears pinning back. The medic frowned, scribbling on a tablet, then leaned to Nightwing. “The scarab’s in some kind of defense mode,” she said, tapping the screen. “Encasing him in a protective seal, possibly against biological agents? No way to cut it off without risking him.” She didn’t sound sure at all, taken off guard by the strangeness of this situation. 

Bart’s grip on Jaime’s paw tightened, his jaw clenching as he nodded slowly, eyes flicking to Jaime’s hooded face. The blue accents on the latex gleamed under the infirmary lights, the tube in Jaime’s mouth flexing as he tried to speak, only managing a low hum.

M’gann stepped forward, using her power to attempt a mental link to Jaime only to wince in sudden pain. “Ouch!” she cried. “The beetle is protecting his mind too, connecting with him is like nails on a chalk board but I felt he’s in there and scared.”

Bart held Jaime’s hand in both of his own. Mentally telling the teen that they were going to get through this; that he was going to take care of him but unable to escape the guilt he felt at doing this to his friend, even if it was for the greater good. 

Nightwing crossed his arms, eyes fixed on Bart as the medical staff kept up their work, trying everything they could think of to get Jaime out. The scarab fighting and thwarting them at every turn. 

Over the next few hours, the team dispersed, leaving Jaime on the medical bed, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Bart slouched in the chair next to him, his sneakers propped on the bed’s edge, one hand still clutching Jaime’s paw. Happy that Jaime had managed to fall asleep. Bart’s head tipped forward, eyes fluttering shut, his fingers loosening but never letting go as he dozed off too.

Over the next few days, Bart became a fixture in the infirmary, his sneakers scuffing the Mount Justice halls as he guided Jaime on slow walks. Jaime’s becoming more and more confident walking on his new paws, the glossy black suit catching the dim lights as they strolled the halls. His tail swishing when Bart cracked a joke about the latest baseball games they watched. Bart held a tablet, scrolling through sports news, “Cruz hit a homer last night, dude, you’d’ve loved it.” Jaime’s ears perked up, the tips twitching, but one tilted down when Bart mentioned he needed to go take care of some things, confusion etched in the motion.

In the med bay, techs tried everything. A medic hooked wires to Jaime’s back, probing the scarab’s core, but as always, it rejected any attempt to access it. Bart watched this with a little worry, it had taken him a long time to figure out how to pass instructions to the scarab but if the techs' fumbling around caused it to reboot… that could be really bad. 

It got worse the next day when they tried a high-frequency pulse to disable the scarab. A version of its own sonic cannons. This time the suit rippled, sealing tighter and making Jaime whimper in pain. Jaime’s tail tucked between his legs, both ears flattening as he whimpered through the tube, his paws flexing helplessly. Bart squeezed his shoulder, his face tight with concern, “You’re hurting him! Maybe we need to stop all the experiments before we make this worse.” That reaction made him genuinely worried, he thought the scarab was dormant, not talking to Jaime or receiving commands but that had been a very active response. He really needed them to stop before they triggered an actual defense protocol and Blue Beetle blasted this room to rubble.

As days passed, the staff leaned on Bart, trusting him with Jaime’s care. He led Jaime through the cave’s quiet corridors. Jaime’s tail wagged faintly when Bart led him around, it was hard with him being unable to see and Bart questioned his own decision there. Keeping him blind would make sure he was nowhere near the fighting when the Reach showed their true colors but it was also very sad to see Jaime stumbling around and needing guided. It was too late now though so Bart kept close, his hand brushing Jaime’s arm, guiding him gently at every turn. Hoping that Jaime wasn’t too sad and that he could make this more fun for him soon.

His chance came a few days later as the med staff decided Jaime should still do things like shower to clean the rubber membrane and prevent any accidental infections. Bart said he’d help him and Jaime’s tail wagged in approval of that plan. 

In the steam-filled shower room, Bart adjusted the nozzle, hot water hissing as it hit the tiles. Jaime stood under the spray, the suit gleaming as water beaded and rolled off it. Bart grabbed a sponge, lathering it with soap, and ran it over Jaime’s shoulders, the rubber squeaking under his touch. His hands glided down Jaime’s chest, tracing the molded curves. Bart’s thoughts drifted to other times he’d touched these muscles even washed Jaime after… well after they’d gotten dirty together. 

They’d been lovers during one of Bart’s attempts. They were friends every time but that was the only loop where he’d fallen in love. It had hurt too much when Blue Beetle turned on them in that time line. He hadn’t let that connection happen again after that. 

His hand drifted then lower, circling the smooth null bulge. Jaime arched, a muffled whimper escaping the tube, his tail swishing side to side as his ears perked up. Bart’s fingers lingered, rubbing firm circles on that most sensitive of spots. Jaime leaned into the touch, his paws flexing, ears flicking upward.

Bart jerked his hand back, cheeks flushing as he scrubbed the sponge against Jaime’s arm instead. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, eyes darting away. Jaime tilted his head, one ear tipping down, then stepped closer, pressing his body against Bart’s hand, the tail flicking faster. Bart swallowed, caught between pulling away and staying still, as Jaime’s hooded face leaned closer, nose slits flaring with quick breaths.

Bart hesitated, his sneakers already soaked from the spray, then kicked them off, peeling his shirt and jeans away. He stepped under the water, the heat soaking his bare skin as he moved closer to Jaime, his tail swishing slow and curious, ears perked high.

Bart reached out, his hands finding Jaime’s waist, fingers sliding over the warm latex. He pulled Jaime close, their bodies pressing together, Bart’s head barely reaching Jaime’s collarbone. Jaime’s paws lifted, hesitant, then wrapped around Bart’s shoulders, gripping tight. Bart tilted his head up, water streaming down his face, his spiky hair flattened as he pressed his cheek against the smooth expanse of Jaime’s chest. Jaime’s tail flicked faster, curling slightly, his ears quivering with excitement.

Jaime’s arms tightened, pulling Bart closer, hunching slightly to bridge the height gap. They just held each other a moment, then Bart felt Jaime’s chest heave with a sob and a dam broke inside him. Tears flowing to be lost in the running water as he held Jaime close. The pair sobbing over everything that had happened and the cathartic release of having someone to cry with. 

Days blurred into a rhythm inside Mount Justice, the sterile hum of the med bay punctuating mornings. Techs strapped Jaime to a table, probes humming against his back, lights flickering as they scanned the scarab’s inert core. Jaime’s paws clenched, ears flattening against his hooded skull, tail curling tight between his legs as the devices whirred. Bart hovered at the edge, arms crossed, his sneakers tapping impatiently until the techs backed off, shaking their heads. “No change,” one muttered, packing up wires.

Evenings fell quieter, Bart wheeling a tray into Jaime’s dim room, the scent of nutrient paste thick in the air. He sat on the bed’s edge, paws folded in his lap. Bart gripped the feeding tube’s outer end, sliding it deeper with steady fingers, watching the black material stretch Jaime’s throat with a visible bulge. He felt bad about this being how Jaime had to eat but making Jaime dependent on others was part of the plan. He wiped dribbles from the tube’s rim with a soft cloth, then ran a damp sponge over Jaime’s suit, until the latex gleamed clean. Jaime’s ears twitched upward, tail giving a lazy wag as Bart tucked the blankets around him, patting his hooded cheek and promising it was going to be okay.

One night, the routine went a little differently. Bart pushed the tube deeper than usual, his eyes fixed on Jaime’s throat working around it, pulsing with each gulp. He laughed, “Anything could go in there, huh?”

Jaime’s tail thumped the mattress once, twice, the sound muffled against the sheets. His ears perked straight, nose slits flaring quick.

Bart smirked, pulling the now empty feeding tube free. His hand rising to pet the smooth hooded cheek, fingers tracing the blue accents. “What’s got you wagging like that?”

Jaime hesitated, paws flexing on the blanket, a low hum vibrating through the tube. He shook his head side to side, ears tipping down in uncertainty.

Bart’s hand drifted lower, palm pressing slow circles over the null bulge, the rubber warming under his touch. “I’ve thought stuff too,” he murmured, rubbing firmer, coaxing.

Jaime’s tail thumped harder, ears flicking forward. He shifted, paws pushing against the bed as he slid off, dropping on all fours on the cold floor. He crawled forward, nuzzling Bart’s crotch through his jeans, a needy whine humming from the tube.

Bart’s breath hitched, his body reacting like he’d just seen the hottest thing in its life. A latex clad Jaime, nosing his crotch begging for cock. It took all his self control not to do something very stupid. 

“Not here,” Bart said, but he gripped Jaime’s paw tight, the latex mitt warm in his fingers. He tugged, pulling the pup up and toward the adjoining restroom, Jaime’s tail swishing eagerly behind them, ears perked high as they piled into a bathroom stall.

He guided Jaime down, on all fours in the cramped bathroom stall. His latex-clad frame filled the space. The suit glinting as Jaime’s ears twitched high, his tail wagging in eager arcs, brushing the stall’s walls with soft thumps.

Bart knelt in front of him, his fingers finding the soft opening in Jaime’s hood. The tube in his mouth stretched slightly as his fingers pressed deeper, a small moan vibrating through it as Jaime’s tail wagged faster. Bart gave in, standing to fumble with his belt before dropping his jeans to pile around his ankles. He gripped the hood, its nose slits flaring as Jaime pressed forward enthusiastically, guiding the pup to his throbbing hard erection.

The yielding tube enveloped Bart’s cock, tight and slick, the material gripping him perfectly as Jaime pushed all the way onto it. His rubber snout against Bart’s stomach while his throat gripped the boy’s cock. Jaime's head bobbed, the motion clumsy but eager. 

Bart’s breath hitched, his smaller frame leaning into Jaime’s taller one, his hands anchoring on the hood as he thrust shallowly. Wet, sloppy sounds filling the stall. Jaime’s ears jerking with each movement, his whines mixing with the tight suction of the tube. His paws shifted on the tiles, getting used to the position, while his tail swished in a frantic rhythm, betraying his excitement.

Bart’s fingers dug into the latex, his hips moving faster, eyes locked on Jaime’s hooded face, the blue accents stark against the black. Jaime leaned in harder to meet Bart’s thrusts, the tube stretching deeper. Bart groaned, his hands trembling as he gripped Jaime’s head, it was like nothing he'd ever experienced and he was fighting his orgasm to make this last as long as he could. Jaime’s tail thumped against the stall wall, ears flicking wildly, his enthusiasm battling Bart’s resistance. Practically begging for him to cum.

With a sharp gasp Jaime won, Bart’s body shuddering as he held the pup’s hood tight, the tube sucking him in as the first wave of orgasm hit him. Jet after jet of cum filling the pup’s throat. Jaime’s ears stayed perked, tail still wagging, a low hum vibrating from his throat as he stayed pressed close, nose slits flaring with quick breaths. Bart panted, falling back onto the toilet seat, one hand still resting on Jaime’s hooded cheek. Thumb brushing the smooth surface as he caught his breath, the heat of the moment lingering in the cramped stall.

Jaime leaned lower, his head resting on Bart’s thigh, breathing in the scent of him. Soft exhales through the hood’s nose, tickling Bart’s cock. 

Bart kept petting him, taking in this very stark moment. It seemed unreal but unlike most of the unreal moments in Bart’s rather traumatic life, this one felt too good to be true. 

Over the next week, Bart and Jaime stole moments anytime they could. Sneaking into storage rooms or empty training bays, the thrill of sneaking around only making the naughty things they were doing more fun. 

Jaime’d learned to move smoother now, padding confidently on his paws, always a step behind Bart, his shoulder brushing Bart’s arm for guidance. His tail swished when Bart pet him, ears perking at the smallest touch.

In a dimly lit closet, Bart snapped his fingers, “Sit, for me.” Jaime dropped to his knees, his ears twitched forward, tail wagging as Bart stepped closer, unzipping his jeans. Jaime’s tube stretched around Bart’s cock, the latex gripping tight as he bobbed eagerly. Bart’s fingers tangled in the hood, guiding the rhythm, his smaller body leaning into Jaime’s larger one.

Another night, they slipped into a camera blind spot in a deserted hallway. “Stay,” Bart whispered and Jaime froze, paws planted, tail still, one ear tipping down in focus as Bart dashed off at full speed, checking every hall in Mount Justice for where the rest of the staff was before arriving back to his pup. Trailing a hand over the glossy black of this second skin. He rubbed the null bulge, slow and firm, Jaime’s ears perking high, a low whine escaping. “Good boy,” Bart murmured, smirking as Jaime’s tail thumped against the wall, his body arching into the touch, pent-up need evident in the way his body flexed, unable to get any actual relief since the suit had sealed away his cock. The touches felt good but it just wasn’t enough to make him cum and he was starting to doubt the suit would let him.

In the shower room again, steam curling around them, Bart pressed Jaime against the tiles, water cascading over the latex. Bart’s hands slid down Jaime’s back, fingers finding the latex sheath at his ass. He pushed inside, slow at first, the tight tunnel gripping him as he fingered Jaime for the first time. Exploring this soft, grippy hole as Jaime’s tail flicked wildly, ears pinned back in a mix of pleasure and strain, his moans echoing as his body rocked, pent-up tension making him tremble. “Does the puppy want more?” Bart teased and Jaime let out a moaning whine, his ears tucking back and his tail pausing. This was the first time Bart had said puppy, though they’d both been thinking it. 

Jaime’s ears softened, one going out to the side as he lowered himself to the ground. Getting in the now very familiar position of being on all fours. 

“Good boy,” Bart praised, petting Jaime’s head in just the way he liked. Jaime’s tail started wagging again in response and he turned, lifting his ass up as he bowed forward resting his chest on the ground. His tail curled upward to expose the tight, grippy hole for Bart’s use. 

Bart’s smile widened, his hands gripping Jaime’s hips, his cock pressing against the sheath’s entrance. It parted slowly, gripping him tight as it gave, letting him push slowly inside to be enveloped by the wet warmth of Jaime’s insides. The pup let out a low groan, his ears flattening again, tail flicking in sharp, frantic bursts as his body tensed, then relaxed into the growing feeling of being full.

Bart’s hands gripped Jaime’s waist, pulling his plump ass back to meet each thrust as he picked up the pace. Jaime’s larger frame rocked beneath him, paws sliding slightly on the wet tiles. His moans blended with the sharp slaps of Bart’s hips slamming into his rubber clad ass. Ears flicking wildly as his body trembled, pent-up desire trapped with no release. Bart thrust harder, giving everything he had to the addictive embrace of the sheath’s grip, his own breaths ragged as he murmured, “That’s my good puppy.” Jaime’s tail thumping the tiles in response, their bodies locked in the steam-filled haze. Then it happened. As Bart’s hands moved back to grip Jaime and thrust harder, the pup pushed back meeting his strokes and with a whimpering moan he erupted, cum pouring out from the tiny hole in his flat rubber bulge. His hole gripped and pulsed on Bart as he had what now passed for an orgasm in the pup’s life, the pressure sent Bart over the edge too. Painting Jaime’s insides as he dribbled all his pent up cum onto the shower floor to be washed down the drain. 

Their encounters grew bolder. 

In quiet corridors, Jaime nuzzled Bart’s crotch, his hooded face pressing close, nose slits flaring as he inhaled. Jaime humped Bart’s thigh. the rubbery bulge of his trapped cock against the denim, whimpering with each desperate thrust. His paws gripped Bart for balance, ears pinned back in frustration, tail flicking wildly as the friction built but offered no release, leaving him panting through the tube, body quivering. Feeling the unseen smile as Bart watched his needy pup.

Bart escalated his attention to Jaime’s needy bulge too, his hand adding sharp slaps to his bound cock when he rubbed and edged the pup at night. Jaime yelped, his ears tucking down, tail curling tight as thin leaks seeped from the tiny urethral hole, the sealed cock dribbling weakly beneath its prison. 

That just encouraged Bart to do more. Hiingers pinching and twisting the smooth surface, drawing out desperate whines whenever Jaime was being mopey or sad. Jaime’s paws scrabbling at the floor, his body arching in a mix of pain and pleasure. It always seemed to make Jaime leak more than just rubbing.

“Good boy,” Bart murmured, soothingly rubbing the spot he'd just been slapping, Jaime’s tail thumping once in response. It turned out the pup was a bit of a masochist. 

They also explored ways to reward the pup, other than with Bart’s cock, which he couldn’t seem to get enough of. In the shower, Bart bent Jaime over on all fours, water cascading over them. His fingers pushed into the ass sheath, searching for the little bump of Jaime’s prostate. He had to stretch the grippy tunnel wide to get in deep enough. Jaime’s tail lashed, ears flattening as Bart’s hand worked in, nearly fisting him. The latex yielding and stretching seemingly without limit. Finally, Bart found just the right spot, coaxing pulses of cum to dribble out of the poor little bulge as Jaime whimpered and his tail twitched wildly. 

Bart loved the way one of Jaime’s ears twitched when he was about to cum, it also twitched when he was getting milked and when the torture of his trapped genitals was just about to make him leak his watery cum all over himself. It was adorable.

To ease their walks, Bart sourced a custom rubber harness, black with blue piping, buckling it around Jaime’s torso with snaps that locked it into place. A short matching leash clipped to a ring at the front, Bart tugging gently as Jaime padded a step behind, his tail wagging with the taboo of being walked on a leash. They fell into their roles of a boy and his sex pup with enthusiastic glee.

It was a gloomy afternoon when Jaime’s parents stormed in accompanied by Nightwing. His mother’s hands clenched into fists, her jaw tight, while his father’s eyes blazed, scanning Jaime’s latex-clad form on the cot. Jaime sat up, the suit catching the harsh lights and looking completely alien to his family. Ears flattening as his mother’s voice cut through the air. “This is what you call help? Look at him!” She gestured at Jaime, her face twisting with anguish. “How could you not tell us about this when it happened! How long have you kept him like this!”

The lead medic adjusted her glasses, tablet in hand, her fingers tapping nervously. “We’re doing everything we can, Mrs. Reyes. The scarab’s locked in a defensive state. Removing it could…”

“Could what? Kill him?” Jaime’s father snapped, stepping closer. “That’s exactly the problem, he could have died without us even knowing he was in trouble! He’s coming home to El Paso, where we can find real doctors.” Jaime’s ears tipped down, a whine coming through the hood as uncertainty radiated from his posture.

Bart stood at Jaime’s side, heart racing as he bit his lip, panic simmering beneath his calm facade. If Jaime left, the Reach could find him, reactivate the scarab, and unravel everything. He leaned closer, his hand brushing Jaime’s arm, guiding him off the cot saying, “Bathroom, be right back.” He led Jaime away from the arguing adults into a quiet corner of the bay and into the restroom there. His fingers slid down, possessive, rubbing slow circles over the null bulge, the latex warm under his touch. Jaime’s tail flicked once, hesitant, ears softening as he leaned into Bart’s hand.

“Stay with me,” Bart whispered, urgently, his body pressing closer to Jaime’s. “I need you here.” Jaime’s hooded head tilted, nose slits flaring, and he nuzzled Bart, a soft hum vibrating through the tube. Bart’s eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “Stay.”

He dashed out of the stall, running as fast as he could without creating a sonic boom. A red blur flying past the arguing family, then up to the grotto to find M’gann. She was talking with Conner and Beast Boy, her face tight with concern. “M’gann, please,” he said as he appeared out of nowhere from their point of view. “They want to take Jaime and he doesn’t want to go. Can you help him tell them?!” He gripped her hand, trying to pull her towards the medical bay.

M’gann hesitated. “If we can’t help him, being with his family might be the right choice…” 

Frustrated Bart turned on her and begged. “He can’t talk without your help, please! He should get to choose!” 

She nodded, giving in to at least letting Jaime weigh in on the matter. The team walked in and Bart dashed back to fetch his waiting pup. Walking out to his family, where M’gann waited.

With a deep breath to prepare for the pain she was about to go through, her eyes flashed open, glowing bright as she reached out, her mind pushing against the scarab’s defenses. She winced, head throbbing as the scarab’s resistance cut her thoughts like knives. But she held the link, connecting Jaime’s mind to his parents and to Bart and the team. 

Jaime, she said, her mental voice strained, you’ve heard what your parents want, what do you want.

Jaime’s tail tucked, and one ear dipped low as he considered. Then his voice answered in their minds, “I love you,” he said to his parents, “but I want to stay here with the team and with Bart.” His hooded head turned to Bart, nose slits flaring, ears perking slightly as he leaned closer, hunching to press his shoulder against Bart’s arm, a silent plea for reassurance. His parents froze, faces falling, but Jaime stayed firm, tail giving a single, determined wag.

Chapter 2: Day 23 - Wet & Messy

The hard rubber of the hood pressed against his cheeks, trapping in the musky scent of his owner in his nose. Jaime felt the familiar, wonderful stretch as the tip of Bart's cock eased past the opening. His mouth sheath stretched around his friend’s cock as the boy pressed it deeper into the rubber tube. It really made Jaime wish he could taste it but there was a thrill to his mouth being an always open hole for Bart to use. 

Blind and obedient, Jaime's ears were down but his tail gave a soft tap-tap against the floor, a nervous hit at the rush of anticipation he was feeling. The cock pressed deeper, guiding his head back slightly, forcing his throat open. He waited in the warm prison of his pup hood for the taboo thrill he knew was coming.

Bart's voice resonated gently against the rubber skin of Jaime's hood, cutting through the anxiety. “You’re going to be a good little piss pup for me, aren’t you?”

Good puppy! Jaime echoed in his head. The praise was a spike of desperate pleasure every time and Jaime’s tail kicked into a more frantic wag, thumping the tile floor. Hearing Bart call him a good little piss pup was a reward all by itself.

A pressure pulsed at the base of his tongue, and then a sudden warmth flooded the back of his throat. Hot liquid struck his tonsils as his caged cock, trapped in its tight rubber prison for what felt like endless months, gave a futile tug against the restrictiveness of its shell.

The stream came swiftly, filling his cheeks and pushing against the back of his throat. He swallowed automatically, the salty, acidic taste momentarily overwhelming the scent. He tried to take it all down, gulping around the intrusion, his chest aching with the effort of control. Every muscle strained to hold himself still, to be the perfect receptacle for Bart.

He was drowning in it, and he loved it.

Why do I like this? The thought was a flash, quickly buried by the wave of pleasure. This was wrong, he knew that objectively, and that he should be disgusted. But the feeling of being utterly used, of having his Owner's warmth and waste poured into him, eclipsed all logic. He was a pup, a thing designed to serve, and this felt like very good service that made his cock go mad in response.

He thought of the Scarab. That blue little bug had forced him into this life. But then again, had it? Had the alien tech simply known, deep down, that this was what Jaime truly wanted? That underneath the boy who fought aliens and cracked jokes, there was a dog eager to lick his master's boots? 

He wasn't crazy. He didn't want to live like this forever, blind and hooded, a rubber toy. But the counter-argument was a physical weight in his stomach: the profound, undeniable relief of being nothing more than Bart’s good little piss pup. It felt too good to be a lie.

The stream finally slowed, easing to a soft trickle down the back of his throat. He felt the last warm drops flow down the length of the cock shaft, guided by the rubber mouth sheath, sliding easily into his gullet. Bart’s hips stilled above him, and the cock remained a soft plug in his mouth.

His stomach felt heavy and full, sloshing with the load he had just taken. The sensation had him beyond turned on as he wanted to do something, anything, to earn more praise and move closer to the release his caged cock was begging for. Jaime started a slow, eager bob of his head on Bart's cock, a gentle, rhythmic up and down motion, and he could swear he felt the liquid inside him swishing with every movement.

Bart gave a low, appreciative growl from above. “Good pup.”

Then the hips above him started to pump. Unseen pressure pressing against Jaime’s face as Bart’s dick was quickly being wrenched in and out of the mouth sheath, the rhythmic force slamming the rubber tip against Jaime’s tonsils. Jaime’s head thrashed slightly with the impact of each thrust, feeling the pressure mount, feeling the rubber of the hood expand and contract. He was just a hole, a tight, receiving sleeve for his Owner. 

Jaime gave a desperate, needy whine through the hood. He needed to get closer. He needed to touch. He began humping the air beneath him, his body lifting off the tile, then dropping again, the impact jarring the urine in his stomach. He shuffled forward a single inch and angled his hips until the rubber bulge of his own cage pressed against Bart’s sturdy boot. He ground his hips against the stiff leather, frantically seeking any friction at all. The dull pressure felt amazing but it was like scratching an itch that never goes away, he could hump all day and end up more desperate than he’d started.

His cock swelled uselessly inside its narrow confines but the rubber had been restricting it for so long that it didn’t seem to be trying as hard anymore. When he’d first gotten trapped every erection was torture, his cock swelling and pressing against the little puch until it was crushing itself. Pure torture, but now his cock felt like a limp mass inside the cage, content to lie there even as Jaime thrashed and humped. He was a rubber pup with a rubber dick, nothing more and he was a little worried if it would go back once he was out. 

Bart’s breathing grew ragged as Jaime humped. The rhythm above him stuttering and speeding up, signaling the inevitable climax. Jaime braced for the next rush of warmth, his tail beating a final, frantic rhythm against the floor.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

Both boys froze. 

The sudden silence was deafening, amplified by the hood. Bart swore, a harsh whisper vibrating down the length of his cock. Jaime felt the muscle instantly slacken. He felt the rapid, slick withdrawal as Bart pulled completely out of the mouth sheath.

Bart moved fast. Jaime felt his Owner’s hands on the rubber hood, wiping the front of the face opening with a soft, clean cloth. The wetness was gone in a brief moment. Then, a hand gripped his shoulder, tugging him upright. He wobbled, still weak from the exertion, but instinctively brought his tail up to curl submissively between his legs.

Bart’s voice, now low and controlled, was right next to his ear. “Stay.”

Jaime froze, knees locked. He heard the metallic whir of a zipper, Bart securing his fly, followed by footsteps moving away toward the door. The sound of the door opening was muffled, followed by the familiar, calm voice of Nightwing.

“We need Jaime in the med bay,” Dick Grayson said. His voice was clipped, professional, suggesting urgency without panic. “One of the STAR Labs researchers has something new, and we need the Scarab.”

Jaime's stomach tightened. Duty replaced desire in an instant.

The scent of M'gann reached Jaime next, a sweet smell of something herbal as he walked up with a light footstep to press a shoulder against Bart’s. A gesture of comfortable intimacy that grounded Jaime in his sightless world. 

Bart was his seeing eye human, he thought to himself again, a funny reversal of their pup dynamic.

Bart followed the pair, guiding Jaime's shoulder gently to turn him. Jaime walked forward, trusting Bart's touch completely. Their steps led them out into the hallway. He recognized the heavy, metallic door of the Med Bay sliding open. The scent changed instantly, replaced by the sharp, clean smell of antiseptic and medical rubber. Then came a new, loud voice, full of nervous energy and scientific excitement: Dr. Emil Hamilton.

“There you are, Blue Beetle. And Impulse, thank you for bringing him right away. This is critical. We’ve done it,” Hamilton announced, his voice buzzing with triumph. “Working off the data you’ve provided, we’ve finally refined a Harmonic Frequency Pulse that can safely dissolve the Scarab’s neurological anchor to your brain stem, Jaime.”

“Isn’t that great!?” M’gann chirped, her voice close enough that Jaime felt the sound wave in the air near him. “Then we can finally get Jaime out of that suit!”

Jaime tensed, a confusing knot of excitement and horrible dread forming in his chest. This was great, wasn’t it? He was glad they couldn’t see his face, glad the rubber hood restricted his jaw, making it impossible to speak or even move his tongue to talk because he wasn’t sure his face was matching how great this was supposed to be.

“That’s cash! I mean, great!” Bart’s voice came next, full of genuine, unrestrained joy.

Of course he's happy. The thought was sharp, painful, and immediately defensive. Bart had carried the burden of caring for Jaime for months. He had every right to be happy the job was over. Jaime shouldn't be surprised, and yet, the thought that Bart wanted him out of that suit stung. Why does this hurt? The answer was clear, unwelcome, and undeniable: because he didn’t want to stop being Bart’s good little rubber pup. 

Bart stepped closer to Hamilton. “So, when are we talking about? Like, right now?”

Hamilton’s voice was quick. “We can do it right away. Everything is calibrated, but we need your consent, Jaime. Are you ready for the procedure?”

Jaime's head was shaking before the question was even finished. He didn’t mean to move; the refusal was a sudden, violent twitch of his neck muscles, a sharp, uncontrolled movement of the heavy hood. He hadn't realized he was shaking his head until the rubber bounced against his shoulders.

M’gann’s tone softened, the sound waves changing as she projected concern. “In the morning, then? We can wait until morning, Jaime.”

Jaime remained still, his tail tucked tight between his legs. Bart's hand found his back, resting a warm, light weight on the rubber. The pressure of his Owner's hand was the only thing that made Jaime's racing heart slow enough to force a slow, stiff nod.

“Don’t worry, Blue Beetle,” Dr. Hamilton said, sounding only slightly disappointed. “This is perfectly safe. The risk of neurological damage is effectively zero.”

Jaime didn't feel better. The anxiety wasn't about the Scarab killing him; it was about the life waiting for him on the other side of the rubber. The life where he wasn't Bart’s pup.

The walk back to Jaime’s room was silent, broken only by the sound of their rubber boots on the polished floor. Bart’s grip on his shoulder felt less like guiding and more like anchoring. Once the door hissed shut, isolating them in the familiar space, the tension finally snapped.

Jaime dropped to his knees. The abrupt halt made the urine slosh heavily in his stomach, a warm weight he was now acutely aware of. He stayed there, head bowed, tail still tucked, waiting.

Bart took a breath, the sound loud in the enclosed room. “Jaime, seriously, this is good news. Think about it! Getting the Scarab off you solves everything.”

Solves everything. The phrase was a punch. Jaime wasn't sure what "everything" Bart meant. Jaime being trapped in the suit or the inconvenient reality of having a permanent rubber pet. Either way, the implication that he was a temporary problem Bart was eager to solve hurt more than Jaime imagined it would.

A needy, soft whimper escaped the mouth sheath. Driven by instinct, Jaime crawled forward, pressing the top of his heavy rubber head against Bart's thigh.

Bart caught on instantly. Bart’s voice dropped low, the comforting tone of an owner soothing his pet. “Oh, hey. Hey, good pup.”

Bart sat down, allowing Jaime’s hooded head to rest in his lap. Bart’s fingers began moving slowly over the slick rubber of Jaime’s head, smoothing the surface. "You're not going anywhere, Jaime. I'm not going anywhere." Bart’s hands drifted down Jaime’s body, rubbing the firm latex covering his chest and the full curve of his stomach. “Just be my good pup tonight and don’t worry too much.” 

Just one more night. Jaime shifted from Bart’s lap. He crawled backward a brief length, then turned, pressing his knees firmly into the floor. His tail snapped up to a pleading arc, his heavy rubber hips rose slightly, presenting his enclosed hole in a needy bow. Head down, ass up. If this was the final night, Jaime wanted to spend every second being a very good puppy for Bart.

Bart’s hand slipped instantly between Jaime’s plush cheeks, the thick rubber warm under his touch. Bart gave a satisfied hum. “That’s my good pup. Just for me.” Bart’s fingers traced the outline of the sealed opening, feeling the desperate heat beneath the latex.

The first thick finger pushed hard against the seam. Jaime winced slightly, the movement muffled by the hood, but the pain was instantly overwhelmed by the surge of validation. He pressed back against the finger, desperate for the invasion.

Bart's voice was soft, close to the floor. "You need this, don't you? You need me to use you."

Yes. The thought screamed in Jaime’s mind, unable to be expressed.

The finger worked its way in, slow and deliberate, stretching the thick material and the muscle beneath it. Jaime gave a long, pathetic whine through the mouth sheath, his rubber-clad body trembling with anticipation. Bart added a second finger, then a third, the stretch becoming deep and profound.

Bart began a slow, insistent rhythm. Jaime’s hips instinctively followed the cadence, humping the empty air, the movement causing the fluid in his stomach to slosh audibly, a secret rhythm of their own making. He was full, stretched, and utterly available.

Jaime gave a sudden, guttural howl, the sound trapped and distorted by the heavy hood. Bart’s name was lost in the rubber as the pressure of the thrusting fingers combined with the sound of his own rhythmic humping to push him toward a desperate, caged climax. His whole body seized, shaking violently as the phantom release tore through him, his useless cock swelling painfully inside the unyielding rubber. Bart’s fingers continued their work through the tremors, a firm, non-stop presence.

"Good boy," Bart murmured, his voice thick and low, "Always good for your Owner."

The next morning, the sharp, clean smell of antiseptic was the first thing Jaime registered. He was lying flat on a wide, firm exam table in the Med Bay, still enclosed in the full rubber suit. Bart was immediately beside him. Bart's fingers were laced tight with Jaime's rubber paw, the slick material pressing firm against his own skin.

Dr. Hamilton’s voice was clear and precise. "Alright, Jaime, Impulse. This is it. The pulse will feel like an intense pressure spike, focused entirely at the base of your neck. It’ll be brief."

Jaime tensed, his tail—currently limp—gave a small quiver.

"Ready, Blue Beetle?" Hamilton asked.

Bart squeezed Jaime’s paw. Bart's grip was tight, supportive, a quiet reassurance that Jaime held onto.

A low, deep thrumming started in the room, quickly escalating to a high-pitched, vibrating whine that penetrated the rubber hood.

Then came the spike.

A focused, white-hot pressure slammed into the junction of his spine and neck, right where the Scarab had settled. It was intense, burning, and it made every nerve ending in his body seize up. Jaime's legs kicked out straight, his hips pushing involuntarily against the table, but Bart’s grip held his paw fast.

This is right. The pain was clarifying. It wasn't the kind of agony the suit had inflicted before. This felt like tearing out a deep, poisonous splinter, the kind of necessary suffering that signaled healing. He welcomed the sting, letting the fierce feeling consume the confusion he felt about leaving Bart.

The high-pitched whine cut out abruptly. The pressure vanished, leaving a strange, vibrating echo in his neck. It was done.

"Perfect," Hamilton breathed, triumphant. "Pulse complete. Low residual energy."

Jaime waited, breathing shallowly through the mouth sheath. Then, he felt a delicate, alien sensation as the scarab was pulled from the back of his neck. It felt sticky, almost like a piece of heavy, old tape being peeled away from raw skin.

Hamilton spoke quietly, just a few feet away. "It's off. Completely detached and inert." 

Jaime lay suspended in silence. He was still blind. He was still trapped in the tight latex of the suit. But on the back of his neck, where the Scarab had lived for years, there was nothing. Just a bare, suddenly cold spot of rubber. An immense void opened up, a neurological emptiness where the scarab had been. 

It’s over. The life of the rubber pup and the life of a hero, it was all suddenly a closed chapter. He was free, and that realization felt less like joy and more like terrifying, hollow weight. Like having two identities ripped away from him in a single moment. 

Two figures moved into his space, their hands immediately focused on the rubber suit. Jaime recognized the quick, sure movements of the Med Bay techs. He felt cold, precise scissors begin to snip at the seams of the latex, starting near his wrist.

The first release was the glove. A powerful, sucking sound ripped the heavy rubber from his arm, exposing his naked skin to the sudden cold air of the room. He shivered instantly, the chill causing the tiny hairs on his arm to stand up.

The techs worked with practiced efficiency. They cut the suit up his side, unzipping the torso. Bart leaned closer, his voice soft, an intimate whisper near Jaime's rubber ear. "Almost there, Hermano."

The whole rubber shell was peeled back, exposing his shivering body, which was slick with sweat and the faint, sweet trace of Bart's urine from the night before. Bart and the techs quickly slid the heavy latex shell away, leaving only the head and the lower sheaths.

The techs then focused on the most intimate parts. A thick hand gripped the rubber mouth sheath, pulling hard. The material stretched taut, tearing free from the adhesive around his lips and tongue. The painful, intense pull felt like ripping a deep plaster from sensitive skin. His tongue was instantly cold, his mouth dry, suddenly exposed to the antiseptic air.

The final element was the anal sheath. A gentle, firm pull. Jaime gasped, the sound no longer muffled but sharp and raw in the room. The tight rubber was yanked free from his slick, stretched muscle. The lingering ache was shocking, a dull, profound throb of release that he had forgotten was possible.

The techs wrapped him in a thick, coarse blanket, the wool feeling scratchy against his sensitive skin. He pulled the blanket tight, shivering violently despite the warmth, his eyes squeezed shut against the harsh, bright Med Bay light.

He was naked, free, and terrified.

A sudden rush of movement, then a pair of warm, solid bodies enveloped him. The distinct scent of his parents—Mamá's familiar perfume and Papá's sharp, clean cologne—slammed into him, nearly overwhelming the antiseptic. A wave of relieved, intense emotion washed over him, completely divorced from the synthetic scents he had lived with for months.

"Mi'jo! Oh, Jaime, my little boy," his mother cried, her voice cracking as she held him tight, the blanket a thin barrier between them.

"We're taking you home," his father promised, his voice thick with unshed tears. "It's over, buddy. It's finally over. You're our boy again."

Our boy again. The words hit a painful chord. Their happiness was for a Jaime who no longer existed, for a past they were reclaiming. He clung to them, a knot of guilt and sorrow twisting in his stomach. He wasn't their little boy; he was Bart's pup, and that identity was vanishing.

He forced his eyelids apart, fighting the stinging brightness. The light was violently white, reflecting off the clean, sterile surfaces. He squinted, his vision blurry, trying to make sense of the room. He saw his mother's tear-streaked face, his father's relieved smile, Dr. Hamilton organizing instruments, and Nightwing speaking quietly to M'gann in the corner.

But the most important person was missing.

Bart wasn't there. His owner wasn't holding his hand. Bart's scent, which should have been close, was absent, replaced only by the lingering trace on the discarded suit and the blanket. Jaime searched the room, his head lifting off the pillow, the frantic motion jarring the fluid in his stomach.

A sharp, hollow pang of abandonment struck him. Bart had been there for the worst of it, had been his owner and now that the job was finished, Bart was gone. Jaime let his head fall back onto the pillow, freedom was feeling very cold and empty.

Jaime stayed in the Mount's med bay overnight for observation. The crisp white sheets felt overstimulating after months of only feeling rubber. Every sound, from the distant hum of the Zeta Tube to the faint rattle of the ventilation, was painfully loud. Without the hood to filter the world, his senses were violently overloaded. His eyelids were still perpetually squinted against the cruel fluorescent lights throughout the base. He tried to sleep, but the quiet emptiness of the room was too vast. He kept searching for the familiar, specific sounds of Bart moving, listening for the comforting rhythm of his footsteps or his scent. He found only silence and the smell of disinfectant.

The next afternoon, his parents took him home. The three of them walked through the Zeta tubes and out the door and into the bright, aggressive afternoon sun of Rhode Island. The world was too much. The car ride home was a symphony of overwhelming noises: traffic horns, his mother's cheerful humming. At home, the familiar chaos of his family left him feeling like he just wanted to go hide in his room but they wouldn’t let him, asking him constant questions. Offering him food or to fetch a blanket, when all he wanted was a quiet place where he didn’t have to talk anymore.

He was struggling especially hard to talk. Every word felt like a physical effort when for months, a simple twitch, a low droop, or an eager wag of the rubber appendage had conveyed everything: submission, pleasure, distress, or need. Now, he had to use his face, his voice, his stiff hands. He felt mutilated, deprived of his most fluent language. He missed Bart knowing what he was feeling without the need for words or explanations.

His parents saw only their overly quiet son, thankful he was back but taking his withdrawal as some problem they needed to fix.

When he finally got the privacy of his room at night, the bed felt like a cold, empty space. Sometimes, he’d turn the lights off and curl onto a ball, sinking his face into his arms, trying to recreate the feel of the being at the foot of Bart’s bed and the pressure of the hood. He desperately missed the warmth of Bart’s body next to his and the way Bart’s specific scent had overpowered everything else as he drifted off to sleep. He missed the simple, clean-cut life of the pup dynamic.

He rationalized Bart’s absence at the med bay a hundred times that night. Bart had asked to be his caretaker, and probably had thought it was just going to be for a few days not months. Now that the Scarab was gone, the job was over. Bart had run back to his normal life, which was exactly what Jaime was supposed to be doing too. It seemed like the simple truth was that Bart didn't need him, didn't want him, he was just enjoying having a good little rubber pup while dealing with the work of taking care of Jaime. He could understand it but it didn’t make it hurt less. 

Weeks later, the automated buzz the Zeta Tube announcing his arrival. RECOGNIZED: GUEST, JAIME REYES.

Jaime stepped into the Mount Justice entryway in civilian clothes: worn jeans, a plain shirt, and a simple hoodie. He looked like the boy he was before the Scarab, before the suit. Physically, he was whole, but the bitter taste of loss lingered. Stepping into the Mount was usually a comfort but now it felt like he didn’t belong here.

He walked with an unfamiliar, heavy gait through the silent halls toward his old room. Now that he was just Jaime he didn’t need a room in Mount Justice so he was here to get all his stuff. 

He pushed open the door to his quarters. Everything was exactly as Bart had left it weeks ago: impeccably tidy, almost untouched. The air in the room was stale, but underneath the dust of disuse, a faint scent remained; Bart’s musky body odor and the lingering synthetic smell of latex. 

Jaime dropped onto the edge of the bed, the mattress sighing softly under his weight. He reached across the smooth, grey comforter and picked up a red and white hoodie hung on the chair; Bart’s. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. The faint, sweet smell of speedster static and Bart's familiar musk filled his senses, bringing an immediate, sharp pang of longing.

His cock twitched under the denim, a small, involuntary reaction. But it did not harden. He pressed his hips down, trying to encourage the feeling, but it remained soft. Months of the rubber cage had trained his cock to leak and ache without ever reaching an erection, forcing him to be a limp mass in his prison. Now, even with total freedom, his poor cock refused to swell, and he could swear it had shrunk slightly in the strict compression.

Jaime was lost in the smell and didn’t notice the door open and Bart Allen appeared around the corner. 

"Jaime? I... uh, hey." 

Jaime instantly dropped the hoodie on the bed, guilt flashing hot across his face. He scrambled to his feet, trying to project a casual indifference that felt totally false. "Bart. Hey. Just grabbing my stuff." He nodded toward his empty duffel bag.

A painful awkward silence settled between them, thick with the weight of everything unsaid: the pup stuff, the sex, the final night, and the absence in the Med Bay. Bart shifted his weight, staring at the floor, the cheerful energy usually radiating off him completely absent today.

Bart broke the ensuing silence with a nervous burst of energy, shoving his hands deep into his jeans pockets. “Yeah! Total crash mode on the Zeta. Didn't expect a guest user today. How’ve you been? Like, for real. Is everything working smooth now?”

Jaime let the slang pass, focusing on the real issue. "I'm fine. You're just... here?"

“Well, yeah, I still crash here,” Bart answered, nodding down the hall towards the door to his own room but the smile he tried to flash was shaky. “But I’m mostly around. You know.” Bart kicked at a piece of lint on the carpet. “How was... how was going home?”

"My parents were happy." He took a painful breath. "Why weren't you there, Bart? When they took the suit off. You just... left."

Bart’s usual lightning speed seemed to fail him, frozen for a moment as he dropped his gaze to the floor. "I know. I'm sorry. Seeing your parents, and you out of the suit… it felt like... I just didn’t want to interrupt your moment." Bart shook his head, avoiding Jaime's eyes.

"I missed you," Jaime whispered, the three words carrying the crushing weight of their last night together and the empty weeks that followed.

Bart looked up instantly, his bright blue eyes wide with raw emotion. Bart took a quick, decisive step forward, closing the space between them. “Jaime…"

Before Bart could finish the name, Jaime surged forward, driven by instinct and a desperate, aching need. He didn't hug Bart; he collapsed into him. He drove his face hard against Bart's stomach, sinking his head into the familiar warmth of his friend’s pelvis, his nose and cheekbone pressing against the denim that covered Bart's crotch. It was the only place he felt safe, the only place he knew his place, burying his face in the thick, solid center of his owner.

Bart's hands came up running through Jaime's hair in a tight, protective embrace. Bart didn't speak again, simply holding him as Jaime clung to the center of his body. “I was afraid you’d hate me, you went through so much and it's my fault.”

Jaime looked up at the sudden honest admission. Bart had felt bad for all the sex and the way he’d used him, he hadn’t been able to say he loved that, hadn’t been able to thank him. So Bart had been living with guilt like he’d put him through something. Tears welled up in Jaime’s eyes.

Jaime shook his head, pushing back against Bart's stomach just enough to meet his friend’s gaze, his own eyes swimming with unshed tears. "No. No, Bart, you don't understand," he managed, his voice raw and thick. "I don’t hate you. It was... it was the only good thing that happened."

He tightened his grip on Bart's waist. "When the Scarab took over, and I was just trapped, being your pup was what made it okay, made me happy. I was safe. I was useful. I was yours." The confession felt like ripping his ribs apart, but he couldn't stop. "Thank you. Thank you for making me your pup. I was so grateful."

Jaime saw the color draining away from Bart’s face, his throat working as if he was trying to force out more words, but nothing came out. Whatever Bart was thinking, it was painful. Bart swallowed hard, visibly fighting for control, then brought his hand up to cup the side of Jaime's head, his thumb gently wiping a tear from Jaime’s cheekbone. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Jaime's, the sudden physical weight a heavy reassurance

"You're the very best pup," Bart whispered, his voice cracking slightly, choosing the only truth that felt safe to utter. "The very, very best."

Sobbing, Jaime clutched Bart closer. “I didn’t want it to end, I hate that it's over,” he sobbed. Finally voicing the irrational emotion he’d been carrying. He wishes they hadn’t figured out a way to free him. 

Bart squeezed him tight and rocked them both slightly. Jaime felt Bart’s body shaking with his own suppressed tears, a dampness soaking the shoulder of his shirt.

Jaime lifted his head suddenly, driven by the intense, raw closeness and the unspoken confusion between them. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted Bart closer. He shifted his head upward and met Bart's mouth, finding his lips with a desperate, clumsy force.

Their first kiss! And Bart's lips were so soft on his as, it was better than Jaime had imagined and a dizzying, selfish thought flashed through Jaime's mind about another thing he’d longed to do. I can finally taste him. I can finally taste his cock. 

Bart pulled back abruptly, just enough to see Jaime’s face, his eyes wide with a dark urgency. His breathing was fast and shallow. Bart’s voice was low, almost like the younger boy wasn't sure if he could do this. “Close your eyes, Jaime. Open your mouth.”

Jaime eagerly obeyed, tilting his up, his mouth parted wide as he closed his eyes, hardly able to hold still. A finger slid against his lower lip, then pushed past his teeth. Bart's rough knuckles pressed his tongue’s base, violating his mouth as he explored it. Saliva pooled fast, dribbling down Jaime’s chin. I accept this. A deep, satisfied sound escaped his throat.

“Close,” his owner whispered and Jaime obeyed, sucking on the boy's fingers as they explored deeper, sliding gently into his throat.

Bart pulled his hand free with a wet pop. Jaime’s tongue chasing the retreating warmth. His cock gave a quick jolt, a sharp ache that made his thighs press together.

The sound of a zipper was a sudden, coarse zzziiip that caused an almost pavlovian response in Jaime. His hips pushing out hard, his butt twitched against his heels. 

“Show me how much you want it, pup.”

Jaime thrust his tongue out further, curling it slightly with a desperate, pleading energy. The wait was excruciating, he could feel the other boy’s eyes on him. Taking in what his pup looked like, not that the latex was gone. 

Then a warm weight pressed against the wet of his tongue. The taste of Bart’s cock and the feel of bare skin unfiltered by latex made Jaime whimper almost unable to hold still. But he reminded himself he was a good pup and let Bart slide his cock up his pup’s tongue pressing on the back then into his throat, being the wiling hole he had been for months. The feeling of his cock pressing down his throat was far more familiar, and Jaime had gotten very good at letting him slide as deep as he wanted. 

Bart pulled out a few inches slamming back in as he toyed with fucking the pup’s throat before ordering, “Suck.”

Jaime’s lips wrapped around him as he tried giving a blow job, but he was clumsy, this was technically his first time doing this. Bart let him try for a moment, smiling down at the inexperienced pup before he took control again, grabbing a handful of Jaime's hair, forcing his chin back to steady his head. Bart thrust in. Jaime gagged once, eyes watering, but he relaxed his throat and pushed forward. Bart rocked shallow, fucking his mouth with quick pumps. His balls swung forward to tap Jaime's chin.

Jaime’s cock tingled more, pre-cum wetting his thighs from the half hard little thing. He loved choking on Bart’s bare length and let out a whine when Bart suddenly pulled out. 

Strings of spit snapped as his cock bobbed free. "Worship my balls, pup."

Jaime dove in. His mouth latched onto one full sac, his tongue pressing the wrinkled skin, sucking with rhythmic pulls. Bart's thick scent filled his nose. Jaime’s hand flew to his cock, rubbing through his pants, but Bart nudged the hand away with the toe of his boot.

"You’ll get your chance later, puppy. Just focus for now." Bart’s fingers wrapped around his own cock as he pressed the boot against Jaime's, sliding over his pants and compressing the poor little guy even as he gently stroked his length. It felt like being back in the rubber prison of that null bulge and Jaime was ashamed at how good that felt. 

Jaime switched his attention, mouthing the other ball with wet smacks. His tongue traced the seam, probing gentle. Bart's foot ground faster. Puppy whimpers mixed with its owner's low grunts of enjoyment. A bead of precum dribbled from Bart’s cock onto Jaime’s face sparking a surge of joy in Jaime’s stomach. I did this. He was making Bart leak for him. He whined into the sac, the vibration humming against his ear. Bart’s free hand tangled in his hair, tugging sharp, forcing Jaime’s face deeper.

"That's it. Suck harder."

Jaime obeyed. His lips tugged the loose skin taut, his teeth grazing light. Bart's strokes blurred, his hips bucking into his own grip. Hot pre-cum dripping down his nose. Another spasm seized Jaime’s cock. He moaned loud, the sound smothered against Bart’s balls, his whole body trembling with the thrill.

Bart let out a sudden, sharp cry, the sound raw and uncontrolled, and pushed Jaime's head back hard against the bed. His hips arched up, pulling his balls free from Jaime's mouth, and his strong body spasmed above his pup. The first jet struck Jaime's cheekbone, a relentless, thick torrent followed, pumping out of Bart's body. The volume was shocking; it covered Jaime's chin, neck, and chest in a sticky wave. The liquid sprayed across Jaime’s face, slicking his lips, filling the hollow beneath his nose. A sudden, sharp sting inside his nostril made him gasp, a trickle of the hot fluid getting suctioned in with his sharp intake of breath. He was drowning in Bart again, but this time, the taste on his tongue was overwhelming and delicious.

He shuddered once, then clasped Jaime's face between his hands. His voice was thick with exhaustion and raw emotion. “You’re still my good little pup,” He didn't wait for a response pressing a thumb across the older boy’s lip letting more of the hot liquid slide into Jaime’s mouth before Bart leaned in and locked the pup’s lips in a messy cum soaked kiss. 

“Stay,” Bart whispered. “You wouldn’t be the only hero without powers, stay here with me.”

His owner’s familiar musk was trapped and focused by the thick latex drone hood as Jaime breathed in. He was kneeling on a cold bathmat, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet, his rubber-clad body trembling with excitement. Being encased again felt like pulling on a weighted safety blanket. A full catsuit, tight and slick across every muscle, blinding with a smooth rubber pup hood and rubber paw mittens. He felt just as vulnerable and sexual as he had when he was trapped, his world was reduced to tactile sensation and the heat of his owner’s body, with the added benefit of this one coming off. 

Bart’s hands were a pressure on Jaime’s hood, steadying his head. The weight of Bart's cock pressed deep into the mouth sheath. The rubber of the catsuit made a low, protesting squeak as Bart shifted his weight above him, adjusting his hips for leverage. Bart’s voice was a low, resonant murmur, vibrating against the rubber near Jaime's ear. “Good pup. You know what to do.”

A hot stream rushed past the slick sheath and struck the back of Jaime’s throat. His body convulsed with the shock of volume and temperature, his esophagus clenching, fighting the urge to gag. He was drowning again, the rush of the acidic piss filling his mouth, pushing against his cheeks as his owner used this rubber pup as a urinal again.

Take it all. The internal command was a willful, desperate annihilation of self, and it was a comfort he craved. The heat and pungent taste overwhelmed his senses, forcing his mind to silence all the anxiety and guilt he felt. Here, as a blind, rubber-sheathed drone, there was only obedience. He was nothing more than a funnel.

He swallowed hard, the fluid sloshing audibly in his throat, then forcing itself down his esophagus. His stomach contracted, the fullness and warmth registering as an intense, physical affirmation. He was used, and found an undeniable pleasure that made the limp cock beneath the latex suit ache with appreciation.

The pressure increased, Bart holding the cock deep, letting the last drops trickle down the back of the pup’s throat.

The phone, abandoned on a towel nearby, went off. An alert noise muffled by the hood chirping insistently until Bart leaned over and grabbed it. Reading something while still buried in Jaime's throat, trapping the taste of piss in the pup’s mouth.

“No,” Bart whispered, his voice sounding tight.

Jaime remained frozen on the mat, his tail giving a single, nervous tap against the slick tile. 

Bart pulled out and Jaime heard the sound of a zipper being yanked up, followed by the light swoosh of Bart pulling on his boots. Bart’s scent, Jaime’s favorite smell in the world, moved away rapidly.

A hand suddenly returned, hitting the smooth rubber of Jaime’s head with a soft, affectionate pat. Bart’s voice was fast, close to his ear, carrying the nervous energy of the speedster about to run. “Good pup. Stay right there. I’ll be back to clean you up later. Promise.”

Jaime registered a quick, gentle kiss on the top of his hooded head, and then Bart’s presence was gone, a brief whoosh of air marking his departure through the open bathroom door.

Jaime was alone. Blind, gagged, full, and encased in rubber, he knelt on the cold bathmat. He was the perfect drone, waiting for a command that might not come for hours, waiting for his owner's return.

He slowly moved his head down, rubbing the smooth, black rubber against the cold bathmat. Bart had told him to stay. And that was all he needed.

Pups didn’t have to worry about the Reach invasion that was actively underway. Didn’t need to know they’d recovered the Scarab from STAR labs and that everything Bart had done hadn't been enough. This timeline was as broken as the others. Jaime, kneeling patiently in the rubber suit, was safe from the knowledge of the global catastrophe beginning outside. He was free of the alien weapon, but his owner was not free of his mission. Bart was already frantically calculating what he had to do next, realizing he had to abandon this world, and Jaime with it. He had to jump to try a different approach, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness and his pup's heart repeatedly.